67
by LostLyra
Summary: “67.” He groaned. “67…” he paused, “Why sixty-bloody-seven?” Now more than ever he wished that he had Abby’s code breaking skills with him. Number 70 of the 100's Theme Challange.


67 (Not sure which number)

67 (Not sure which number)

Numbuh 1 of the Galactic TND was confused. No scratch that, he was confuzzled, dumfounded, brain frozen, village idiot confused. He was not the type of person to sit there and bang his head on the table to get the answer, but he had that in mind as the last resort. He sighed, and tried to massage away the oncoming headache, which was coming like a storm.

"67." He groaned. "67…" he paused, "Why sixty-bloody-seven?" Now more than ever he wished that he had Abby's code breaking skills with him. His stomach grumbled, and Hoagie's cooking skills wouldn't go amiss either. Again the headache was bouncing around his head like Kuki on steroids, and he thumped his bald head on the table (the trademark sunglasses long forgotten).

"67," he murmured, face down on the desk. "It could be a year… But which? If it was I bloody well hope that it's not 1967, I'm going to have to get 86 to look that up. Now what happened in 67, before the first century…" he thought again, his well learned brain processing the information. "Vindex revolts… which leads to the downfall of Nero… could be a coded message about the downfall of TND, by KND… which I highly doubt. Nero's a jealous bastard and puts two of his best friends to death… I don't think so. Even Numbuh 4's not that good with a sword," he sighed, a stab of homesickness reminding him that it was only another few weeks until they passed their training… "No!" he snapped at himself. "Stay focused, you moron!" Great now he was talking to himself.

Deciding all was forgotten about the year 67 he threw that scrap of paper in the bin, his fogged mind not realising that it was just doodles of him and another operatives names. He sighed, and pulled another piece of paper towards him. Writing the year 1967 down. He then started to write different dates that he could remember from when he and his dad used to play trivia about different years. His dad's excuse was, _to broaden his general knowledge. _But they both knew that it was because they enjoyed playing the game on lazy Sunday afternoons… Damn!! He was getting distracted again!! Okay… The year 1967… The year 1967…

888

Wondering where one of her best operatives had got to Numbuh 362 called her best friend Numbuh 86 and jogged along the corridor to his room, and office. Quietly the teen opened the door and to her surprise she found Nigel Uno fast asleep on his desk, a drying out Parker fountain pen in one hand. Smiling to herself she ignored her friends comment of _Sleeping whilst on patrol, I should --_

"Fanny!" she scolded, knowing that he friend was only joking. Suddenly she realised that he was lying on a piece of paper. Intrigued she went over and gently pulled it out from underneath him, nearly laughing out loud when she read what had been written on it.

_February 6__ - Aleksei Kosygin arrives in the __UK__ for an 8-day visit. He meets the __Queen__ on __February 9__._

_February 7__ - Opening of __Mazenod College, Victoria__. _

_March 7__ - __Jimmy Hoffa__ begins his 8-year sentence for attempting to bribe a jury_

_May 1__ - __Elvis Presley__ and __Priscilla Beaulieu__ are… _It seemed that he had fallen asleep around about May 1. Number 362 smile still didn't dissapearate.

"Nigel," she murmured. "You sometimes are one of the idicotic people I know. Or ever had the pleasure to have known." He snuffled in his sleep, then realised that the piece of paper wasn't there. Numbuh 86 tried to move undected around her friend and out of the door, but something crashed down as she tripped. Waking the sleeping teen.

He jumped almost sky high in the air, and started to blabber about different dates in 1967. "Married in Las Vegas! Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanly Cup…" he faded as he realised that the was on the floor with a very sore bum and a furiously laughing Supreme Commander.

"Numbuh 1!" she stopped laughing and peered over the edge of the desk, whiping the tears of out of her eyes. "Calm!" she suddenly saw the faint blush lining his cheeks. "What are you like?"

"Honistly Ma'am I haven't a clue what you're talking about," he stuttered, and brushed himself down. 362 squatted down next to him, putting a hand on his arm.

"How long have you been working on that?" she asked gently.

"Not very long," he lied, and then suddenly realised how close he was to his Supreme Leader and the blush deepened, realising that she had developed some very, _very_, nice feminine curves.

"Don't you think that it could be about something else?" she questioned. "None work related?"

Numbuh 1 raised his eyebrows to the heavens.

"'Cause you still owe me 67," she explained, and suddenly pecked him on the lips. "Now you only owe me 66," she quickly got up and left.

Nigel blinked, licking his lips. Coming out of his stupor he scrambled up off the floor, flung the door open and raced after the Supreme Leader.

"But what does it _mean_?" he yelled. Catching the attention of other operatives, who grinned and turned away laughing quietly to themselves. "I owe you 67… wait 66 _WHAT_?" Numbuh 1 lost sight of his Supreme Leaduh, but still following, the poor teen even more confuzzled than before. Not knowing that he'd get his complete 67 sooner than he'd planned…

888

Hope you liked it. Its my second attempt at a drabble. It was starting to act drabblish until a plot bunny attacked and killed the drabble cabbage… (don't ask…) anyone get the reference about the headache?? Cookies if you do. Officially I'm not really a 1/362 shipper, but whatever floats your boat.

Hope you enjoyed. It was my first try at 1/362 so I hope you don't mind if I have the character out of character…

Please review, comment and criticise...

LostLyra


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